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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Look here, Hargreave," he said, "I want you to take the next train up to London and carry that little leather bag with you," and he indicated a small bag standing upon the writing-table. "On arrival go at once down to Maldon and call at half-past nine o'clock to-morrow night at that house to which you took old Mr. Tarrant. You recollect it The Limes, on the Witham road.
"I fear I am just as ignorant as yourself," I replied, looking the arch-crook's pretty daughter full in the face. "Well," she said, "I know I can trust you, Mr. Hargreave. I have only you in whom I can confide." "Yes," I assured her, bending across to her. "You can trust me implicitly. I, too, am just as puzzled as yourself."
"I now remember it." "Ah!" he cried in instant anger. "As I thought! It was old Boukaris the sly old devil. How, I wonder, did he know that I had sent you to Sofia? He, no doubt, saved you by putting that mark on your hand, Hargreave; but the brutes have been one too many for me, and have done me down!"
Then, turning to me, he said: "You'll keep one door, Hargreave, and I'll keep the other, while Mr. Blumenfeld gives information." Thus we waited. But I was sorely puzzled as to the whereabouts of the stolen bonds. If Duperré had taken them, how had he got rid of them? That he had done so was quite plain by Rayne's open attitude.
It struck me that he had painted one of the pieces with some of the colorless liquid, for, having dried, it was now crinkled in the center. "Look here, Hargreave," he said. "I want you to telephone to the girl Andrews and ask her to meet you this afternoon at four, say in the ladies' café in the Café Suzio, so that you can have tea together. When you've done that come back here."
I showed them both the strange mark upon my palm, a brand which I suppose I shall bear to my dying day. "Then you really owe your life to that girl Balesco, Mr. Hargreave?" she said, raising her fine dark eyes to mine. "I certainly do," I replied.
You were playing with Hargreave, and he alarmed me." "I'm cold," our host said. "Will you shut that window." For the first time I noticed the window, which had certainly been closed when we were playing, was open about a foot. Besides, Mr. Blumenfeld's glass of port, of which he had drunk only half, was now empty, two facts which, however, at the time conveyed nothing to me.
I was by that time used to those confidential conversations, and I walked along the corridor and joined Lola. "I'm very troubled, Mr. Hargreave," the girl suddenly exclaimed in a low, timid voice after we had been chatting a short time. "I overheard father whispering something to Madame Duperré to-day." "Whispering something!" I echoed. "What was that?" "Something about Mr.
You would not be suspected, being her friend," he added with sly persuasiveness. "No. Tell them I refuse!" I cried, furious that such a proposition should be put to me. The foreigner, in whom I now recognized a polished international crook, shrugged his shoulders and elevated his eyebrows. Then he asked: "Will you not reconsider your decision, Signor Hargreave?
I suppose I must have waited nearly half an hour when suddenly there fell upon my ear uneven footsteps hurrying along towards the car, and in the light of the street lamp I distinguished, hurrying towards me, a short, elderly man, somewhat deformed, with a distinct hump on his back. "You're Mr. Hargreave, aren't you?" he inquired breathlessly, with a distinct Scottish accent. "I'm Tarrant!
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